Reason to Wed (The Distinguished Rogues Book 7) (7 page)

“Hmm, is that competition I see poised to take your place?” Avery mused, pointing toward the stables.

Albert Meriwether had paused in the shade of a tree, watching Esme and Jillian converse rather obviously. Since he appeared dressed for riding and hadn’t been in sight all morning, Richard assumed he’d recently returned from visiting his new fiancée on her neighboring estate.

 
“He hasn’t a chance,” Richard insisted. “Married men, or about-to-be-married men, are not her type.”

“Ah, is that why she settled for you last night?”

Richard bristled. The idea that he’d come second to Meriwether rankled. He chose to offer no comment. Avery would needle him no matter what he said to deny it anyway, and drunk, he’d be ten times as obvious to others.

“Better claim what’s yours, brother, before someone else does. As I have learned, women are fickle creatures, every last one.” Avery sighed. “She
is
lovely. Out of curiosity, just how adventurous in bed is she?”

“I have no idea yet but I intend to find out.” He spun about and saw speculation in Avery’s eyes. They had bedded the same lovers in the past but never at the same time. Usually before or after the other was done with them. But Esme and Avery? He couldn’t bear that idea. “Do not even think of approaching her.”

Avery winced and he drained his glass. “There’s nothing wrong with additional companionship in bed.”

Richard scowled and shook his head. “I doubt Lady Ames’s and Esme’s friendship extends that far. Find someone else for a third, Avery.”

“Fine. You can keep the little dragon.” His brother scowled and stood. “But I’ll do what I want with whoever I want.”

Richard ignored Avery’s belligerent tone and was grateful when his brother went on his unsteady way in an obvious huff. He tried to relax about Esme. They were nothing to each other really. One night with her warm body to play with should not make him feel so damned possessive. She was very good at hiding her real feelings behind a polite mask and his tension increased. When it came to Esme, looks were absolutely deceiving.

God help him, he’d never imagined he could feel so strongly about where Esme spent her time. She confused him, attracted him and yet with her, he was wary of putting a foot wrong. He was entirely without sense this morning and he didn’t know what to do with himself—but watch her and wait for some sign that she might want him again.

Eight

A warm summer’s day amused by friends had been just what Esme had really needed. Listening to their lives, their concerns and hopes for their families, brought a sense of inclusion to her life that a hundred balls never could. One could hardly talk candidly at a ball, there were too many ears and not enough friends among them, and she had much to say to one lady in particular.

Lady Jillian frowned. “And there are gentlemen like that?”

“Oh yes,” Esme insisted, pulling Windermere’s sister farther along the path and deeper into the garden. She was very glad to have a chance to talk to Jillian alone but she had to be delicate about how she’d come about her knowledge. “Many men enjoy taking a firm hand with women who like that sort of thing for pleasure. But believe me, Hogan is an out-and-out bully about it. Not the way a casual observer would notice, but it is there.”

Esme kept her eyes on Jillian. The woman was still young; a widow who’d loved her older husband dearly. But by all accounts, she’d been utterly controlled by that man. Not cruelly but certainly kept as a possession. Rumor had it that Jillian’s late husband had been a man with an extensive collection of sexual accoutrements designed for both pleasure and pain too. How far Jillian had enjoyed that life wasn’t clear, but Esme suspected the woman was lost and without someone to talk to about her old life.

She squeezed Jillian’s hand. “It will start out small, a gathering left early, a favorite dancing partner you will be pressured to refuse more often than not, a hat he doesn’t like changed at the last moment. Over time, you would lose friends and disappoint your family by being so wrapped up in his concerns as to have no time for anyone else. You might not make any decisions without consulting him first just to keep pleasing him.”

“But I always consulted my late husband.”

“Not in everything I suspect.” Esme sighed, thinking of how she’d failed one friend already in her life. She could not afford to be so timid again. Not where Hogan was involved. “I never noticed what Hogan did to Vera’s life until it was far too late to make a difference.”

“Who was she?”

“A neighbor in London whom I saw frequently, but not so often as every day. Luncheon invitations were the first to go, and then she was often not at home to me when I called, although I realize in hindsight that Hogan had likely told her not to receive callers. I allowed her to sever the acquaintance when I should have fought harder to stay involved in her life.”

Jillian’s brow creased. “What happened to her?”

“She died.” Esme remembered that tragic day, and the events of the few before that she’d pieced together afterward. “When he broke it off abruptly after a row over her gloves, of all things, Vera was distraught and begged him to forgive her. She chased his carriage down the street and then collapsed in tears when he wouldn’t stop. My servants and I helped her return home and that’s when I discovered how much she’d changed. He’d made her so dependent on his opinion that in the end, when he refused to see her anymore, she chose to die rather than go on alone. He destroyed her confidence in herself, a little bit at a time, until there was nothing left to go on with.”

“Oh,” Jillian said, her face pale. “That’s a tragedy.”

“You must be careful of such men.” Esme bit her lip and then sighed. She couldn’t speak of this in half-truths forever if she wanted to spare Jillian future pain. She had to be blunt. “Benjamin Moore was very different. He treasured you. He had a way with you that excited your body, but he never forced you to change your mind. Never punished you because you chose kid gloves over silk. He used warning words, a secret language perhaps, to let you know what he wanted you to do for him and what he would do to you.”

Jillian licked her lips and her eyes darted in all directions. Her breath came fast, undoubtedly panicked by Esme’s knowledge of such matters. She took a pace backward. “How could you know so much about my husband?”

“I have been acquainted with men
like
him and their unusually dominating passions before,” Esme murmured gently. “I have rarely been comfortable in a passive role, but for some women, and men too, a firm hand is bed play and beyond is required for their happiness. I believe you are such a woman, and I assure you there is nothing wrong with that.”

All the air left Jillian’s lungs and she sagged. “I’m so lost without Ben.”

“I can see that, but you won’t always be alone,” Esme assured her, relieved the woman would confide in her. “You must be careful whom you reveal your true nature to and whom you trust. There are good men who can fill your needs without crushing your will into the bargain.”

“Like who?”

“Like…” Did she really want to push Jillian into another man’s arms, control, so soon after losing her husband? Jillian undoubtedly needed time to grieve for Benjamin and decide if she wanted that life still. She could give the woman hope though. “The relationship you had depended on mutual respect and affection. That takes time. I could not in good conscience suggest any one man who could suit you. Only you can know what you need by spending time with them.”

“You’ve given me much to think about.” Jillian stared at her and then blushed. “When I married Ben, I did not know I was like this. For a long time I feared I was perverse.”

Esme curled her arm through Jillian’s again and led her along the path that would take them back to the house. “You are a good woman and deserve respect no matter how you find pleasure,” she promised. “Do not rush into the next bed just because a man will say you must belong in him.”

She had always liked Jillian. Although not a fixture in society, Esme had come to feel a deep affection for Windermere’s sister from the few weeks they’d spent in each other’s company over the years. Jillian was funny and kind and possessed a keen intelligence Esme couldn’t bear to see harmed.

“I will do as you suggest and not rush. Thank you, Esme,” she said with a smile. “My brother might think he’s patching up your supposed rift but I am very glad you’ve come, if only to advise me. I might have made a terrible mistake with Lord Hogan.”

Esme said nothing to that, but was very glad Jillian’s eyes had been opened to the variety of men in the world, and the power she had in choosing one.

Jillian’s gaze sharpened, focusing over Esme’s shoulder. “I suppose I should be getting back to the housekeeper too. My brother’s parties at least keep my mind occupied so I don’t miss Ben so much. And I think a gentleman wishes to speak with you.”

Esme rolled her eyes and turned, expecting to find Lord Windermere ready to berate her for warning Jillian off Lord Hogan—and instead found Albert Meriwether approaching, his stride determined as he bore down on them.

She squeezed Jillian’s hand. “Do pass along my compliments to the housekeeper and staff too. Last night’s ball was a wonderful success.”

“They will be thrilled to hear you think so. The poor dears worry so.” Jillian laughed softly. “I’ll see you later for tea with Harriet.”

“Of course.” Esme affected an ease to hide her irritation when Meriwether bowed. “Mr. Meriwether. What an unexpected surprise. Glorious day, isn’t it?”

The man smiled shyly. “Am I disturbing you?”

She had once thought his smile endearing, but now his manner annoyed her. She shrugged, glancing over her former lover and seeing him in an entirely new light. His affectionate nature hadn’t truly increased with a longer acquaintance. What had she been thinking to believe a holiday together would bring them closer? It had done the exact opposite. He’d come here with an agenda that Esme played no part in. “Certainly not.”

He drew closer. “I couldn’t help but notice you seem very somber.”

Talking with Jillian and speaking of Vera’s tragic death had been a melancholy business, but such moments were short-lived. “I am in excellent spirits, as always,” she told him. She gestured to the riding crop in his hands. “Are you just come from your fiancée’s home?”

Meriwether shuffled his feet. “Oh yes, a pleasant luncheon with her family.”

“Ah,” Esme murmured, realizing how little she was affected by his news. Neither angry nor sad nor even disappointed in the situation. She didn’t feel anything about the loss of her lover and his status as an engaged man. “You must be happy.”

“I am.” He suddenly frowned. “Despite my marriage, I hope we might remain friends and that you know you might always rely on me.”

Esme blinked. “What could I possibly need to rely on you for? I am not in any distress. And I imagine your marriage will not increase our knowledge of each other to the point where a deeper friendship can develop.”

“There’s no reason we cannot remain on the best of terms.” He drew near. “If we were discreet.”

She narrowed her eyes. Did he assume she’d ignore the fact he was to marry? Men who did, placing so little importance on the commitment they’d made to another, were pitiful, in her opinion. The one thing she would never willingly do was usurp a wife’s place in a husband’s affections. They’d discussed marriage once too, her disinclination to wed again, but perhaps in the exuberance of his successful suit, he’d forgotten her prohibition on entanglements with married and engaged men. “There is every reason. Your future wife’s feelings, for one. I will not be a party to breaking her heart.”

Meriwether caught her hand in his. “Jane will be a dutiful wife.”

“So I have heard.” And that was from Lord Windermere. His praise of Jane had been a commonplace compliment at best. She removed her hand from Meriwether’s clinging grip. Jane would be like any properly raised young woman in society today. She’d overlook her husband’s wandering eye and if he strayed into another woman’s bed, she’d hide her hurt from everyone. She would bear the insult in stoic silence, but Esme would never be the one to cause it. “Do give her my regards when you see her next and my best wishes for your happy marriage.”

“That won’t be for a few days. I had hoped to enjoy the rest of the house party with you.” He smiled a little too warmly. “We came with that intention and I apologize for being distracted.”

He considered marriage a mere distraction? Good grief, he was cold! “My interest currently lies elsewhere,” she assured the man.

He glanced behind him. “With our host?”

Esme was aware that Lord Windermere was watching her every move very closely this morning. Ordinarily, she could ignore him, but today her feelings were mixed. She didn’t mind him looking, yet she didn’t quite know how to react to him. Last night had been good between them. Surprisingly good, and she’d slept well afterward and awakened refreshed and invigorated. But considering the fact that she had been fielding discreet questions about her fling with Windermere all morning, and even this fool had noticed, she would have to speak to Windermere alone and have him stop being so obvious about his interest. “With whomever I choose. Good day, sir.”

“I understand,” he cried out urgently as she turned away. “You were angry with me last night. I forgive you.”